A Midwife Crisis (11 page)

“I’m sure he helped your mommy feel better.” Katie hoped her voice didn’t choke with tears. The image of John holding his wife in his arms while she died burned
into her brain. It explained his sadness, but not his feelings of guilt.

“Julia?” Mrs. Adkins stepped into the kitchen. “Time for your nap.”

Julia hopped off the chair and took two steps before turning back to give Katie a hug. “Don’t go to heaven too soon,” she muttered against Katie’s neck.

Katie returned the hug, tears spilling despite her best efforts. “I’ll work on that.”

Julia hurried from the room, leaving Katie wiping her cheek as she walked over to the sink to look out the window. It was a warm day for fall. The sun shone through the leafless trees, casting spiky shadows on the grass, still green despite the light frost of a few nights before. John was kneeling over the remains of a flower bed, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up as he pulled at weeds.

She suspected he didn’t have much experience with gardening, as one of the weeds he pulled up looked suspiciously like thyme. But that was all right. It went well with the sage and fennel already on the ground beside him. She was debating whether she should go outside to tell him when suddenly he jumped to his feet. Spinning from the garden, he swatted at his back.

She hurried to the door. “What’s wrong?” she yelled.

“Bee!” he answered. “I think it’s in my shirt.”

Crossing the yard quickly, she lifted the back of his shirt to find the attacking insect, still on his back, stinger embedded.

“Hold still,” she instructed, flicking the bee away. “Is that the only one?”

“Yeah,” he responded, teeth gritted. “Did you get the stinger?”

“I think so. Come inside and let me look closer.”

Unbuttoning his shirt as he walked, he entered the kitchen and spun a chair around backward to straddle as she examined his back. He faced the back of the chair, his chin resting on his arms folded across the top.

Katie leaned closer to look at the angry welt. At least the stinger itself was gone. “I’ll make a paste.” She crossed the kitchen and began rummaging through the cupboard for Mrs. Adkins’s baking soda.

“I wouldn’t have thought the bees would still be out,” he said, while she mixed a soda and water paste.

“It’s been warm the last few days. I guess they’re getting ready for winter.” She turned away from the sink to return to him and lost the ability to speak.

Shirt gone, he sat, straddling the chair, a lock of his dark hair brushing against his brow. Thickly muscled, with a smattering of dark hair that crossed his bare chest and narrowed to a line disappearing into the waistband of his trousers, he looked every bit the part of Romeo he had played earlier.

Averting her eyes immediately, she prayed he hadn’t been aware of her staring as she hurried behind him to apply the paste. “This should help,” she muttered, embarrassed that her voice had broken.

She rubbed the cool paste against the red, swelling sting, too conscious of the warm skin beneath her touch. She’d known his shoulders were broad, but she’d had no idea they were so firm or that touching them would affect her like it was. Allowing her gaze to
travel down his body to his narrow waist, she noticed the fabric of his pants hugged his hips and thighs. And for a brief second, she wished the bee had stung him a little lower.

“Well,” she said, needing to get her mind away from those thoughts, “that should do it, Dr. Keffer.”

Before she could step away, he grabbed her wrist. “We know each other well enough now to be on a firstname basis, don’t you think?”

Think?
She was lucky she could breathe. “All right.”

He grinned, and the breathing part became more of a challenge. Then he squeezed her wrist lightly and dropped it. “Thanks for the salve,” he said, reaching for his shirt.

She forced her legs to take her to the sink as she mentally added another thing to her list. When her husband touched her, it had to do things to her like John’s touch had done. She wasn’t really sure what those things were, but she suspected they would come in handy when it came time for making babies.

The smell of wood smoke drifted across the churchyard, carried by the slight breeze that promised the cold temperatures were about to return. Right about now, Katie would have been grateful for a break from the heat. Her turn at stirring the apple butter paddle was about up, and the fire under the copper kettle needed choking down a bit.

“Freddie,” Katie said, stopping him before he threw on another log, “we probably ought to let that fire die down a smidge or the apples are bound to stick.”

“I’m sorry, Katie.” He returned the log to the stack, then hurried back to take over the paddle. “I’ll stir next, if’n you’d like to rest.”

He picked up one end of the seven-foot-long paddle and set his rhythm to match hers. Back and forth he rocked with one end of the handle against his hip and the other fastened to the flat paddle that stirred the bubbling apple chunks in the pot. Stepping slowly, he followed the circular path around the fire that had been made from hours of walking and rocking by a host of apple butter makers.

Three large kettles were working today, though not as hard as the women making the apple butter. Katie and six others had peeled and quartered apples for two
days in preparation for the church’s yearly fall festival. Everyone in the area would attend the two-day event, and the money made from selling the apple butter would help with repairs on the church and parsonage.

Beautiful quilts, jams and jellies, and crocheted tablecloths and shawls were on display for sale and anything not sold would be saved for the Christmas bazaar.

Katie headed to the well to freshen up before the box lunches were to be auctioned. All three of her fiancés were there and rumors were already running rampant that Harold Crowley was prepared to pay as much as five dollars for the privilege of sharing her lunch.

Katie’s fried chicken, potato salad, and gooseberry pie were good, but no lunch could be worth five dollars. Still, the thoughts of everyone watching while the bidding climbed made her face heat and her belly quiver.

All of Katie’s family had come into town today, even Grandma, who’d spent most of the trip trying to convince Katie it was a perfect day to announce an engagement to Randy. Katie didn’t argue. Didn’t need to. Pa and Grandpa more than took care of that for her.

“I’m a-tellin’ you,” Grandpa said, pulling Harold to the side as soon as he arrived at the festival. “If you don’t get to work on Katie, you’re going to lose her.”

“What do you mean, ‘work’ on her? I’m courtin’ as best I know how.”

“You might be.” Grandpa nodded his encouragement.
“But I’m warning you, Randy is romancin’ her all the time.”

Harold snorted. “That hothead don’t scare me none.” He folded his arms over his chest and stared across the yard toward the hothead, who luckily had no idea he was being discussed.

“If you ain’t worried about him, you need to watch out for the other one.”

“Freddie?” Harold said his name like it was a big joke and watching him stir the apple butter, Grandpa had to agree. Skinny and gangly, the boy didn’t look like much of a threat. But just then the doc said something to Katie, and her face lit up.

Grandpa frowned. “I ain’t too sure it’s Freddie you need to worry about.” He nodded his head in the doc’s direction.

Harold scratched his chin while he studied the situation. “Is she engaged to him now too?”

“Nope. At least I don’t think so, but you’d better give her your best shot.”

“Doin’ what?”

Grandpa thought for a moment, then said, “Use what you got to your advantage. Buy her gifts and such. And make sure you bid the highest on her box lunch.”

Harold patted his shirt pocket and grinned. “No need to worry about that. I got it covered.”

Grandma watched Grandpa slip away to talk to Harold and decided it was a perfect time to find Randy. Hooking her cane on her arm, she scurried across the
yard to the jams and jellies. Randy had already managed to get free tastes from several of the young girls selling the preserves. Didn’t surprise her none. She’d give him all the jelly he wanted if she were just fifty years younger.

“Randy?” She leaned on her cane and hobbled a mite. If that didn’t get his attention, she could always wallop him with it. “Can I talk to you for a bit?”

Randy left the giggling girls and headed her way. He sure looked fine today.

“What can I do for you Mrs. Cole?”

“Oh, pshaw.” She fluttered her hand in a shooing motion and smiled. “We’re practically family. You can call me Grandma.”

He smiled, and she wished again she were fifty years younger. Even forty would work.

“I come over here because I’m worried about Katie.”

“Why?” He looked quickly to where Katie stood talking to the doctor.

“That’s why.” Grandma pointed her cane toward the two of them. “She’s spending way too much time with him, and if you ain’t careful, he’s goin’ to marry her himself.”

Randy balled his fists and puffed out his chest. “I’ll whup him from here to Williamson if I have to.”

“No, no, son. You can’t do that. That would make Katie madder’n a wet hen.”

“Then what should I do?”

Grandma patted his arm. “You could charm the skin off a snake. Use a little of that on Katie, and you’ll have her eating out of your hand in no time.”

“I smile and wink at her and tell her she’s pretty all the time. What else can I do?”

“Have you kissed her yet?”

Randy grinned and Grandma decided if the room were dark enough, twenty years younger would suffice. “No, ma’am. I tried once, but she said we didn’t know each other well enough for that.”

“When was that?”

“Oh, about two weeks ago, I’d guess.”

Grandma nodded. “Been long enough. It’s time to lay one on her.”

Grandma didn’t realize Pa had overheard her advice to Randy. He hiked up his britches and made a beeline to Freddie. The foolish kid was stirring apple butter while every eligible bachelor in the area was homing in on Katie. The apples could wait.

“Freddie?”

Freddie took his eyes from the kettle, but never lost his rhythm. “Yes, sir?”

Sir
. Pa really liked this boy. “I come over here to warn you.”

“About what? I ain’t done nothing.” Freddie looked scared to death, and Pa realized he needed to change his tone. Having him faint face-first in the churchyard wouldn’t leave a good impression on Katie.

“I know you ain’t done nothin’. That wasn’t what I was talkin’ about.” He followed Freddie around the kettle as he rocked and stirred. “Look over yonder.”

Freddie’s gaze followed Pa’s pointed finger to Katie and the doc, deep in conversation. “Do you think he’s going to hurt Katie?”

Pa shook his head. “Worse than that. I’m afraid he’s going to marry her.”

“
Marry her?
Are they engaged now too?”

“Nope, not yet. But if you don’t step it up a little, I think he’s going to steal her away.”

Freddie frowned, and his pace slowed down a mite. “What should I do?”

“She likes a man that works hard and can help with chores and such.”

“I helped set up the kettles this morning, and I’ve been stirring apples and washing jars.”

“That’s good,” Pa said with a nod, “but you probably should do some work around the cabin so she can see you’d be handy to have around.” Pa patted him on the arm, then added, “Oh, and be sure to win her box lunch today. Got any money?”

Reaching into his pocket, Freddie pulled out two silver dollars. “Yup. And I’m prepared to spend every bit of it.”

“Good.” Pa nodded, not having the heart to tell Freddie he’d heard Harold was going to spend five. “Get on with your work, then. I’d help, but my back’s been hurtin’.”

Freddie didn’t question it, but then, he was a good boy and smart enough to tell when a man was in pain.

“Thank you, Doc, for what you done for Billy.” Polly smiled and handed John a jar of her famous jam.

Accepting her payment, he patted Billy’s shoulder. “You’re welcome. Glad I could help.”

He
was
glad. Glad she’d trusted him enough to do what he’d said and glad that the boy’s arm no longer
looked like it was going to fall off, but mostly he was glad that several of the people at the fall festival had taken the time to speak with him. Of course he’d purchased two quilts, four jars of preserves, and a tablecloth. With all the money he’d spent, they
should
speak with him, but he didn’t feel they did it out of gratitude. Most of them seemed genuinely pleased to see him.

He set Polly’s preserves on the church steps with the rest of his newly purchased items and headed to the side yard. He’d seen Katie walk around to the well a few moments before, but he was busy checking Billy’s arm. Everyone else was on the other side of the church, and she might need a hand carrying some water.

Rounding the corner of the little white church, he froze and stepped back. Randy was at the well with Katie. Determined to leave them alone, John attempted to return to the others, but his feet wouldn’t move. Then his head leaned forward to peek around the corner. Just to check on her, of course.

Randy edged toward her, but Katie smiled instead of retreating, so maybe she wanted his advances. After all, he was one of her fiancés. It was none of John’s business, and he should leave, but neither his feet nor his head was cooperating.

Cocking his head in the arrogant way John was beginning to despise, Randy leaned closer and kissed her. John’s teeth clenched as he waited for Katie to slap him. Much to his surprise, she didn’t. Randy evidently took that as permission to do more, but when he tried to pull her into his arms, she stepped to the side and giggled.

A pent-up breath escaped John as she walked away,
leaving Randy to follow, swaggering as if he’d just won a major victory.

“Little bastard,” John grumbled, surprised the words slipped from his mouth. He shouldn’t even care, but Katie needed to be more careful. Why hadn’t she slapped him? Randy had flirted with every girl there today. Hadn’t she seen that?

John returned to the side yard determined not to let Randy upset him. Katie was surely smart enough to recognize a lothario when she saw one. A crowd was gathering under the big oak tree near the back of the churchyard.

“It’s getting time for lunch,” Reverend Stoker said, “and that means it’s time for the box lunch auction.”

Cheers and laughter came from the group as everyone gathered around for the bidding. Several of the young ladies came to the center, carrying lunches they’d made especially for the auction. The eligible bachelors in the bunch stepped forward with much shoulder smacking and ribbing from their friends. Each boy had a lady in mind and each lady blushed in response.

John watched from a distance, having no intention of bidding on anything. What he’d just seen had taken his appetite anyway. Two or three of the lunches came and went without gaining much of his attention, but when Katie suddenly stepped into the forefront, his mind snapped to.

Freddie, Harold, and the little bastard worked their way to the front.

“What’s my bid for this basket?” the preacher asked. “Katie’s a mighty fine cook.”

The crowd laughed and Freddie raised his hand. “I bid one dollar.”

A few people applauded at the opening bid.

“I bid two dollars,” Harold said, and another round of applause ensued.

“I bid three dollars!” Randy shouted with a wave of his hand, and everyone gasped as if like it were a fortune.

The hair stood on John’s neck. He couldn’t let Randy win this bid. Whoever bought the lunch also bought the right to share it with Katie, and after what he’d seen, there was no way he could let her eat alone with Randy.

“Fifty dollars,” John blurted, and the group fell into a stunned silence.

Reverend Stoker’s jaw dropped as everyone in the crowd turned to look at John. “Did—did you say fifty dollars?”

Evidently he’d overdone it. Katie’s face was scarlet and most of the people around him appeared to have quit breathing. But he’d gotten in too deep to back out now. “Yes, sir, I did.”

The preacher nodded. “Going once? Going twice? Sold to Dr. Keffer.”

He definitely had overdone it. The pitiful round of applause couldn’t mask the hum of discussion that quickly shot through the crowd. Hands covering mouths didn’t slow down the tongues wagging behind them. Everyone in town knew she worked for him and now they were going to assume she did more with him than just work.

Katie dropped her gaze and walked with her boxed
lunch and scarlet face through the crowd to stand in front of him. “Where would you like to eat?” she asked, her voice soft and hesitant.

He wanted to apologize to her but not with all eyes and ears focused in their direction. Luckily another girl brought her basket to be auctioned and the attention diverted. Some.

“I’d like to speak with you in private,” he said, motioning to the side yard away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

Katie simply nodded, still finding it difficult to form words. Fifty dollars for chicken. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why he’d done it. Though from the look on his face, she had the feeling he already regretted it. Maybe he’d meant to say “five” and another zero slipped out before he could bring it back.

She followed him to the side yard, where the shadow of the church cooled the air considerably. Fading orange and yellow maple leaves shuffled about her skirts as they walked to a bench near the well. John motioned for her to sit before he hesitantly joined her.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” he said, averting his eyes.

Embarrassed? The most handsome man in town had done battle for her and won, and he thought she was embarrassed? She’d never been more flattered in her life.

“I wasn’t embarrassed, just surprised.” She laid her hand on his arm and waited until he lifted his eyes to hers. “Why did you do it?”

A myriad of emotions flickered through those green
eyes before he finally landed on one. “I couldn’t let Randy win the bid after what I’d seen earlier.”

She pulled her hand back to her lap and frowned. “Earlier?”

“I saw him kiss you. Are you sure that was wise?”